


making things right

by The_Eclectic_Bookworm



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e17 Passion, F/M, but. fixed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 04:00:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16779184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eclectic_Bookworm/pseuds/The_Eclectic_Bookworm
Summary: Jenny swings by Giles's apartment after a close call with Angelus.





	making things right

“What—”

“Oh, Angelus, but that’s not important,” said Jenny, brushing past Rupert a little too fast and nearly overbalancing. She was still holding the floppy disk, wasn’t she? She checked to make sure (fingers tightly curled around the yellow plastic, knuckles almost white), then held it up, triumphant. “God, I’ve been imagining this moment for _weeks,_ ” she said, and laughed. “Isn’t that embarrassing?”

“Jenny—” said Rupert, sounding somewhat wary. Which was okay, because he had the right to be. She had never lied to him, not once, but what she’d left out had been monumental.

“No, no, just, just let me finish,” said Jenny, waving a hand and nearly throwing the disk across Rupert’s neat, organized living room. The inadvertent danger she’d placed her work in made her heartbeat pick up (adrenaline left over from Angelus’s hands around her throat?), but she steadied herself after a quick breath in-and-out. She was _not_ going to fall to bits when she’d finally made things right. There’d be time for all that later. “Okay, so, so you know how we had that whole conversation about Angel’s soul way back when, and I told you and Buffy that the magics to get his soul back were—”

“Jenny, you’re _bleeding,_ ” said Rupert shakily.

“That’s not important,” said Jenny immediately. Her mind was still on how much she’d missed Rupert’s arms around her, and she couldn’t, she _couldn’t_ be distracted when she could make things _up_ to him, now, really and properly and the way he deserved—

“Angelus,” said Rupert suddenly. “You said _Angelus._ You said you were working late, and you’re bleeding—”

“— _anyway,_ I told you and Buffy that the magics to get his soul back were—”

“I don’t give a damn about Angel’s soul, Jenny, _what happened,_ ” said Rupert, loud and shaking.

“It’s not _important—_ ”

“You’re _hurt,_ ” said Rupert, and crossed the room, placing a hand at her temple.

His fingers brushed against the cut from the door; at the sharp twinge of pain, Jenny flinched. “I’m fine,” she said.

“You don’t look fine,” said Rupert. She could feel his hand shaking at her temple. “You don’t look fine,” he said again.

“Rupert,” said Jenny, and under the impatience to _fix things,_ she felt a painful, frightening twist of love.

Rupert’s hand dropped. He shoved it into his pocket, as if willing it not to touch her. Then he said, “I’ve spent the last three weeks reading up about Angelus, you know.”

“I know,” said Jenny unsteadily.

“The things he’s done, Jenny, they don’t always leave marks.”

“I pushed a cleaning cart at him,” said Jenny, but her words came out high and sharp. “It’s fine. It’s _fine._ ”

“I could have lost you because I was—Jenny, I don’t give a _damn_ about Angel’s soul if it comes at your expense,” Rupert burst out, and yanked his hand out of his pocket to roughly wipe at his eyes, forgetting that he was wearing his glasses. They were knocked off his face and to the floor. He didn’t notice. “You could have been _killed._ He could have _killed_ you. And you’re standing there talking about his _soul_ like I ever gave a damn about him—”

“You haven’t talked to me for three weeks because I didn’t tell you about Angel!” Jenny shouted, completely losing her temper. “What do you _think_ I’m going to focus on in this conversation? _Oh, poor me, I got chased by a homicidal vampire?”_

“He put his hands on you,” said Rupert, and there was a note in his voice that Jenny had heard only once before. _You should have left when I told you,_ he’d said to Ethan, hand a tight fist in the other man’s hair. Rupert had a glint in his eyes that was almost violent, now, but it clearly wasn’t directed at Jenny.

“That doesn’t matter,” said Jenny. “I came here to tell you—”

“It matters,” said Rupert, looking at Jenny with this horrified expression. “Of course it matters. Why on earth wouldn’t it matter, Jenny, I _love_ you and you should have been safe, not, not working late on something that isn’t worth risking your life over—”

“Angel’s life is worth—” Jenny stopped, eyes huge, and played back what Rupert had just said. “What?” she said softly.

“Angel’s life _isn’t_ worth risking yours!”

“No,” said Jenny slowly, heart pounding for a reason that wasn’t at all to do with adrenaline. “Back up, Rupert, and tell me that again.”

Rupert looked at Jenny for a long moment. Jenny was half-expecting the tension in the room to dissipate, because now really seemed like the kind of time for Rupert to fall into a blushy, stumbling mess at his accidental omission. But there was a strange fire in his eyes as he continued to look at her, and just as Jenny was opening her mouth to break the silence, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her, burying his face in her hair.

It was the first time that anyone had touched Jenny in three weeks.

Rupert pulled back, not that far, to look at her, and then he said, “If it ends with you dead, I don’t—I _can’t_ want whatever it is you’re doing to make things right.”

“It didn’t end with me dead, Rupert—”

“But it _could_ have, and I don’t know _what_ I’d have done—”

“Something stupid, probably,” said Jenny, thinking about that momentary glint in Rupert’s eyes. It was fading, now, dulled and half-hidden by the tired love in his eyes, but she knew it was still there. “Definitely not something I’d approve of.”

“Well, isn’t that good to know,” said Rupert a little breathlessly, and then, somehow, they were kissing, and it felt like something in Jenny’s chest had slotted into place again, the way he tasted like tea and honey, the way his nose bumped against hers because they had just both _missed_ each other too much for any kind of finesse—

Jenny pulled back, heart pounding. _There’s still stuff we need to talk about,_ she meant to say. What came out was, “I love you.”

Rupert smiled, a half-relieved, quivering smile like he almost couldn’t believe she was there. “Don’t you ever die on me, Jenny Calendar,” he said. “Don’t you dare.”

“Seems an easy enough promise to make,” said Jenny, and kissed him again, feeling weightless in her joy.


End file.
